


Meet the Neighbours

by Jupiter_Ash



Series: The Tales of Eden Cottage [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Humour, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, POV Outsider, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 09:53:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20095345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jupiter_Ash/pseuds/Jupiter_Ash
Summary: Jane Austen once wrote that “every man is surrounded by a neighbourhood of voluntary spies.”In the case of Little Aven, who was Emily Bennett to prove the great writer wrong?





	Meet the Neighbours

**Author's Note:**

> Big thank you to Geekoncaffeine for the beta.
> 
> For EmmyAngua - I hope this makes you smile and your day a little brighter.
> 
> Warning for the gratuitous use of the word “wanker”.

If there was one thing that life had taught her, it was that when gifted with the perfect set up it would be an utter crime to waste it.

As such, it was with a certain amount of glee and a considerable amount of delight, that Mrs. Emily Bennett found herself rushing through her house to breathlessly exclaim, "Mr. Bennett, Mr. Bennett, have you heard, Eden Cottage is sold at last."

Mr. Bennett - or Dave as he was more commonly known - who had not been aware of any recent developments concerning the purchase or otherwise of the said cottage, and who, up until that time had simply been trying to check the football scores, blinked twice and finally managed to respond with, "Has it?"

"It has," Emily replied with some delight, "for Ms.-" and it was at this point she had to rack her brain to remember what her friend's surname was, "Gooding has just told me all about it."

That is, her friend Claire had just WhatsApped her about it, which was pretty much the same thing, just with a more twenty-first century flair about it. 

"Oh. Well. That's good," Dave responded distracted as he was by the fact his team had lost yet again.

"Well, do you want to know who has bought it?" Emily continued, silently wondering how far she could take this conversation.

"I get the impression you're about to tell me anyway," Dave replied, not bothering to comment on the somewhat odd way his darling wife and love of his life was currently speaking, because history had taught him it was probably one of those things that he never really understood anyway.

"Well, my dear, you remember that car from a few weeks ago?"

Not personally, in Dave's case, since he had been at work during normal working hours on a normal working day, but as with a number of small towns or villages there was always someone around to see something out of the ordinary and who then had no problem spreading this new information around.

In this case, an unrecognised car had been spotting going through the village, and then an hour or so later going back through the village. Normally this wouldn't have been remarked upon*, but in this case the car had been a very old looking classic Bentley, the way it was being driven was a little too fast and a little too reckless in certain people's opinion, and the driver was apparently a youngish man in sunglasses.

_* Much_

Now, just one of these three things would have provided enough village gossip for at least a day or two, but put together it meant that even now, a few weeks later, the car - and driver - was still being remarked upon.

Dave, who wasn't particularly interested in cars, classics or otherwise, had admittedly glossed over much of the discussion, but even he had picked up the key prevailing thoughts on the matter.

"I thought we'd* decided that the driver of the car was a massive wanker," he said with a small frown, "what with the sunglasses and everything, and that this was a local village for local people, and we definitely didn't want his like moving in around here**."

_* i.e. the village_

_** Since demons are not usually known for being good neighbours, the villagers were at least partially warranted in their initial judgements. ***_

_*** Ironically, despite their innate goodness, angels often too make poor neighbours "THANK YOU FOR MY PORNOGRAPHY!" being the classic example. _

"Yup," his wife replied quite cheerfully, "so guess who our new neighbour is going to be."

It wasn't exactly the hardest of guesses. He did, however, have a smother a laugh. "Well I bet Mrs. Hazelton has a lot to say on the matter."

Mrs. Hazelton did in fact have a lot to say on the matter, but since she was not technologically adept, she was not currently saying those things across WhatsApp, Facebook or any other socially minded forum. As such, right at that moment, her opinion didn't really count.

"And guess how he's paying for the place?"

Dave gave a shrug. "The usual way? With money?"

"Well, yeah," Emily admitted, "but apparently it's being bought outright, cash, at above the asking price."

"Great," Dave said, "so it's a city wanker with a lot of money. Would have thought that obvious from the car." 

That was a good point. Dave had a habit of pointing out good points.

"Just a bit surprising though," Emily continued as she checked her phone on the off chance there had been any other developing news on the subject. "Wouldn't have thought Linda could bear to sell it to a city wanker. She really wanted it to go to someone who would appreciate it."

"Yeah, but it's been empty for ages and enough money will change anybody's mind. Probably why it went for above the asking price. She made sure to wring every penny out of his cold, frozen heart."

"Yeah, but-"

"Everyone has a price."

Her phone buzzed.

"Oooh, she said, "update! Apparently it's not just the guy with the sunglasses. Claire says she's just got it from Hayley, who had it Pete, who'd bumped into Sandra, who got it first hand from Linda herself, it's been bought by a couple. Sunglasses guy has a partner." She raised her eyebrows as early phone buzzed again. "Oooh, a male partner apparently."

Dave wasn't sure if he was supposed to react to that in any way. This was after all the 21st century, even if village life didn't always feel that way.*

_* The wifi speed was positively medieval for one. _

"Do you know what that means?" Emily went on.

"Uh, two city wankers?" he offered.

"Exactly! Also, Mrs. Hazelton is really going to have a shedload to say about this."

*

Mrs. Hazelton did in fact have rather a lot to say on this particular subject, but since this isn't her story, she's not saying any of it right now.

What will, however, be said is that now that Eden Cottage had been confirmed to have been sold, British Intelligence would have been impressed by how covertly, and, in a number of cases, less than covertly, the place was being watched by so many people in the village. It would also be a complete and utter lie to say that Emily was not one of them.

Of course she was one of them. She was just as curious as the rest of the villagers as to the identity of their new neighbours - sunglasses and all.

Eyes were pealed, mobiles primed, WhatsApp groups active for any sign of the classic Bentley - currently nicknamed, the car from hell - but for a while there was nothing.

Then there was something. Although something wasn't all that interesting as it turned out to be just the usual cleaners going in to give it, in their words, a damn good working over. The cleaners were being paid for by the new owners, but had been instructed by Linda who had originally hired them to do the monthly once over. They weren't particularly known by the village, other than on sight and familiarity, so getting any other information out of them was a bit of a lost cause. They didn't even know the names of the new owners, let alone anything else a little more interesting.

Disappointed, the village settled back into watching mode, wondering who or what might come next.

Next was the Bentley, spotted briefly one exciting late evening, but was gone again by the next morning. 

Sandra, who did admittedly have a touch of insomnia, claimed it had left at about twenty past two in the morning. When pressed on this, since she would have hardly have seen it in the dark and it wouldn't necessarily have passed her house on the way out, she said the engine had a rather distinctive sound and she could have sworn she heard the memorable heavy thud of We Will Rock You* as it went.

_* It was a random detail to have claimed, especially if it was not true, so it only managed to give weight to her story. _

The outcome of this curious visit, however, was the sudden appearance of a plant by one of the front windows. It was a large, glorious, vibrant looking plant, with large shiny leaves and a lovely natural glow. What it was doing sitting there all alone was anybody's guess, but within a day it had started to flower, so perhaps that was the perfect spot for it.

The new owners, however, were not the first to witness the new flower up close. That honour went to an older grey haired gentleman who pulled up in a van that said Jessup and Sons across the side. He was presumably Jessup senior, although considering the general age of the van, he might have been a "son". Whoever he was, _what_ he was proved a much easier question to answer, since that too was written across the van.

Carpenter.

He spent the day there, working and whistling, and making trips back to the van, and then whistling some more. He was watched, at some point or another, but at least a dozen different sets of eyes, ranging from, _just glancing in while we pass_, to, _why yes, this is the third time I've gone out to my bins and it's not even bin day_.

In the end it took the innocence of a child to get any usable Intel.

"Whatcha doing?" young Master Elliot asked during his walk home from school.

"Putting up shelves, young man," the presumed Mr. Jessup told him. 

"Why?"

"To put things on I should think," Mr. Jessup said. "Why else do people normally put up shelves?"

It was a question that had never crossed Master Elliot's mind, so he just sort of shrugged and latched onto the more interesting part of the sentence.

"What sort of things?" he asked.

"In this case," Mr. Jessup said, "I believe it’s mainly going to be for books. Lots and lots of books. And some records, but mainly books."

Young Master Elliot considered this. "I've got books on my shelf," he declared, "and some Lego and some plastic dinosaurs." It was a rather cool shelf, all things considered.

Unfortunately, for certain villagers, neither the presumed Mr. Jessup, nor young Master Elliot were particularly skilled in conversation, so that was as far as it went. Two things had been confirmed by the conversation though; the new owners apparently owned a number of books, and they and the books were far too good for IKEA.

Mr. Jessup packed up for the day not long after, but, to some surprise, returned the next day. Only this time it wasn't bookshelves he was putting in.

"Wine racks," Emily exclaimed excitedly once she arrived home that evening. "Made to measure wine racks."

"City wanker remember," Dave said as he hunted through the fridge for any misplaced carrots for the stir fry. "Bet he's in finance. Or IT," he added. "Proper IT, mind. None of that faffing around with webpages. Computer programming. Or management in computer programming. Or management consultancy in general. Lots of fancy presentations, high tech gadgets, and long business lunches.

"Of course, if that is the case," he continued, "he's not going to be around here much. Weekends, I'd bet. Long ones, sure. The odd week when he's feeling in the mood to 'get away from it all' and can't be bother to catch a cheap flight to Paris or Porto or Barcelona or whatever. We'll probably not see him much. After all, what's going to interest him around here?"

As always, Dave made a very valid point. He was quite horribly wrong in his conclusion, but it was rather more surprising how right he was about most of the rest.

Then came the removal van.

Well, first came the Bentley*. A flying visit*. Virtually unseen.* Appearing even later at night this time, to the recognisable guitar rift of yet another Queen song**, before disappearing again before day break. 

_* Again_

_** "Now I'm Here" to be exact. _

_Then_ came the removal van.

It was with some surprise that Emily saw the van pass her house on an ordinary Monday just as she'd gone outside to take out the recycling. She was less surprised when it pulled up round the corner and onto Eden Cottage's gravel driveway. Just her luck though, that it was all happening on one of her off-duty days. 

Maybe finally she would be able to see the Bentley driving, sunglasses wearing city wanker herself, rather than relying on second hand information. She had ideas of what he would look like and be like, so she knew what she was expecting. 

What she wasn't expecting was the front door to be opened by a very fair, curly-ish haired gentleman wearing shades of beige in what appeared to be in the form of a waistcoat and jacket. He quickly seemed to grasp control of the situation, gesturing to the removal men where exactly various pieces of furniture and a large quantity of boxes were to be taken into the cottage.

There was no sign of anyone else.

Well that sort of made sense, Emily considered, maybe they had hired a removals manager in the same sort of way you could now get wedding planners. With enough money you could probably hire anyone to do anything, and quite honestly, she didn't blame them. The last time they had moved, it had been a complete nightmare. She would have given nearly anything for the ability to snap a finger and have everything just appear at the new place, unpacked and in the right place. Leaving it all in the capable hands of someone else, to be able to simply come back when it was all over and sorted, sounded heavenly.

Remembering what it was like though, and wanting to be a good neighbour, Emily realised she had the perfect opportunity to orchestrate a meeting. Even if the new neighbours weren't actually present, she could still go and see if she could find out anything more about them.

A quick trip back inside to wash her hands, check her appearance, and most importantly fill up the kettle, she made her way out and towards Eden Cottage.

There were more boxes now, some stacked up in front of the cottage. Surprisingly, there appeared to be very little furniture. No bed, for instance. Just a desk, a few chairs, and lots and lots of boxes.

"Oh, do please be careful," the blond man said in a rather flustered way as two of the removals men put one of the boxes rather heavily down on another. "Some of those are very delicate!"

They didn't seem to pay him much mind, though, which only seemed to distress him further.

"They say moving is one of the most stressful things you can do," she offered as a way of greeting.

"I can see why," the gentleman said in response, wincing as another box was taken out. "Do be less brutish," he called. "Some of those in there are considerably older than you." Then he turned as if seeing her for the first time. "Oh my dear," he said quite hastily, "I fear I have been unacceptably rude. Let me introduce myself. Azira Fell, and I do believe we're going to be neighbours."

Several thoughts went through Emily's mind at that moment. One, that he was not the sunglasses Bentley owner who had sent the village into such a tizzy. Two, that if he was to be their neighbour then he was also not the hired help. Three, that she was not certain she had caught his name correctly. And four, that he honestly spoke like someone out of a Jane Austen novel.

He also had the brightest, warmest, kindest smile she had ever seen, which had her smiling back even before she realised it.

"Emily Bennett," she somehow managed to greet back, "from Hawthorns, just over there."

"Oh, how marvellous,” he enthused. “Hawthorns. Would that be named after the plant or the novelist?"

It was funny, she had never been asked that before.

"Uh, the plant I guess."

He smiled warmly at that, until one of the removals people almost walked into the front door while carrying a box.

"Look," she ventured, "I remember how stressful moving can be, so wondered if I could get you something. A hot drink perhaps?"

His expression was suddenly one of utter thanks. "Would you? Oh that would be most kind."

"No problem. Tea? Coffee?"

And that was how ten minutes later she found herself sharing a herbal tea with her new neighbour, who was all sorts of adorable, and very much not the epitome of a city wanker.

"... and I said to my dear Crowley that we simply couldn't pass up a place that was just so perfect and so loved. Fortunately he agreed, so here we are, or will be once we get all of our possessions organised. It's taking rather longer than expected."

"Your partner, he doesn't happen to wear sunglasses and drive a classic Bentley, does he?" she asked casually.

"He does," Mr. Fell – Azera? Azira? A Zira? – said with some delight. "You've seen him then?"

"Not me personally," Emily admitted, "but there has been rather a lot of talk... about the car," she hastily added. "At lot of people have been rather curious."

"Yes," the gentleman mused, sounding not at all put out by what she had alluded to, "he rather does have that effect on people. Between you and me, I think he rather enjoys it."

After that she managed to find out that this mysterious Crowley* was currently in London tying up some loose ends, but that they were hoping to be all settled and moved in by the weekend.

_* Who still could well be a city wanker even if his partner wasn't. _

"In that case," Emily found herself saying, "how about a barbecue then, at my place, on Saturday."

"A barbecue?" He honestly looked surprised by the suggestion.

"Sure, my other half has been itching to get it out again. The two of you could come. I'll invite a few people from the village as well and we can introduce you. That is, if you don't already have plans."

"No," he said quickly, "no, no plans at all."

"Good then. Shall we say one o'clock? We can make an afternoon of it."

"I- yes. Yes, that does sound most delightful."

Emily beamed. "Good. Oh, neither of you are vegan or vegetarian, are you? Any food intolerance I should know about?"

He reassured her that they would be fine with anything on offer.

"Should I bring anything?" he asked after a moment. "Sorry, it's just that all of this is surprisingly new to me."

"Just yourselves," she said. "And maybe a bottle of something if you have a particular drink you like, but having you there is the main thing."

It was his smile that stayed with her as she went back to her house with the now finished with mugs. He did have the most lovely, genuine smile.

And if she popped back an hour later with a homemade lasagne she just so happened to have in the freezer, well then it was only because she was being neighbourly and the smile he gave her in response to her gift was nothing but an added bonus.

*

"A barbecue?! This Saturday?" Dave's reaction was one of surprise, to say the least. "But you hate barbecues."

That wasn't entirely correct; she just thought they were more hassle than they were worth.

"Yes, but I thought it would be nice," she said. "And you're always going on about how we should use it more, and Mum did get me that barbecue recipe book for Christmas, we can dip into that, and if we get everyone to bring something it won't be such a hardship."

"Everyone else?"

"Yes, I said I'd invite a few people from the village, introduce them, that sort of thing."

"And when you say a few people, you mean half the village."

"Uh, yeah, pretty much," she said, then stretched up to plant a kiss on Dave's cheek. "But you know, the good half. Knew you'd understand. Anyway, I know you're just as curious as me."

"About what?" Dave asked with a sigh, already knowing a losing battle when he saw one.

"Well, that if our new neighbour is as sweet and lovely as he seems, how the hell did he end up with a sunglasses wearing, Bentley driving city wanker?"

*-*-*

This new-fangled mobile telephone device that Crowley had insisted upon wasn't all that bad actually, especially now that he had worked out how to get both his and Crowley's faces on it. It was almost as good as speaking in person. Well, actually, no it wasn't, but it was certainly better than not speaking at all, and it was nice to be able to see who he was speaking to.

"Lasagne, Crowley," he replied to the question, waving the phone in the direction of the heatproof dish. "Homemade. And looking rather divine, I must say."

"Lasagne," Crowley said, deadpan. "Hold on, how on earth did you get yourself lasagne?"

"And we've also been invited to a barbecue, this Saturday," Aziraphale continued, more or less ignoring the previous question. "Various members of the village are going to be invited. We're going to be able to meet so many lovely people."

"_One day_, angel. I leave you there alone for _one day_ and suddenly you're being given homemade lasagne and being invited to the village welcoming banquet."

"You've been invited too, of course," Aziraphale pointed out. "In fact, I do believe they're rather eager to meet you. I think it's the car. It's got them all in a tizzy wondering about the owner."

"Well yes, the car, naturally, the car is just all types of brilliance, but that doesn't mean I want to go and, and _fraternise_."

"Well, then, what exactly did you mean to do?" Aziraphale said. "The whole idea was to keep a low profile and blend in with the humans. We're hardly going to be blending in if we refuse to attend our own welcoming party. What are our new neighbours going to think?"

"Whatever they want to think," Crowley pointed out sharply.

"Yes, well, it was jolly nice of Emily-"

"Emily?"

"-to invite us, and she gave us a lasagne so we didn't need to cook."

"We don't need to cook, remember."

"Yes, but she didn't know that, and it's the thought that counts. Now, when should I be expecting you tomorrow?"

There was a long sigh. "Van is supposed to be here by nine," Crowley said, "so probably sometime around midday, since I don't intend to wait for them once they're all packed."

"Wonderful. I'll see you then. And make sure they look after your plants."

"As if I would trust them with my plantsssss."

"Of course not, dear. Now, how do I switch this thing o-"

**Author's Note:**

> Emily will return in “You Are Cordially Invited”.
> 
> Kudos to anyone who gets the joke about Jessup and Sons.


End file.
